


new moon.

by orphan_account



Series: EOXI UHX ECX [9]
Category: Magic Kaito, 名探偵コナン | Detective Conan | Case Closed
Genre: Gen, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-05
Updated: 2018-09-05
Packaged: 2019-07-07 06:37:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15902874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: But Conan-kun, you’re not Superman.





	new moon.

Conan watches the raindrops racing down the glass windows. He doesn’t flinch when a flash of lightning envelopes the world outside, doesn’t cover his ears as the resounding thunder booms and echoes.

The violent weather reflects the emotions he’s feeling inside. Turbulent, like the winds that threaten to blast the windows open. Angry, like the bright flashes of lightning that threaten to hit anyone beneath it, and the loud claps of thunder that follow behind it. Gloomy, like the sky.

It’s almost poetic, he notes with wry amusement. A heavy storm today, of all days.

“Conan-kun?” The door to the office opens, and Ran steps in. She’s wearing the same clothes he has on. Mourning clothes. Black, black,  **_black._ ** (He swallows the bile that threatens to climb up his throat. Black, black, black.) “It’s time to go,” she says, reaching a hand out for him, but not approaching.

He stares at her hand, it’s trembling a little.

He hops off the seat, making his way to her. Reaching out (with small hands, small fingers) and lacing their fingers together. He squeezes her hand, she squeezes in return. No words need to be shared. No words can be shared. Nothing that can express what they’re both feeling.

They make their way down, silent.

Occhan is waiting for them in the car, silent.

They drive to the funeral parlor, silent. Not even the radio is on. They already know what most of the stations will be focusing on, anyway. The only sound that can be heard is the pattering of rain on the windshield, and the muffled cracks of thunder, almost like gunshots.

_ “You have nowhere left to run now, KID!” _

_ “SHIT!” _

_ “Wh-what?” _

_ “Run, you idiot!” _

Conan closes his eyes, takes a deep breath. Lets it out. Repeats. Repeats until the events stop replaying in his head, like a reel showing him his biggest failures.

Ran has his hand in hers the whole time. Her thumb continues tracing comforting circles at the back of his palm. He pays attention to that, to her warmth. He anchors himself to this sensation. If his mind wanders now… he’s not sure he’ll be able to come out of it without breaking down.

_ “Hey, now… why--” A wet cough. “Why the long face?” _

Occhan stops the car. They’re here… almost too quickly. Conan steels his nerves. He’s always hated funeral parlors.

Ran opens the door and steps out, hand outstretched.

The moment he disembarks, cameras begin flashing.

“Conan-kun! Can we have a word--!”

“Conan-kun! Is it true that KID protecte--”

“Conan-kun! What are your feelings towards--”

Suzuki Jirokichi’s private guards surge forward to push the reporters away, some act as their escorts.

Ran’s grip in his hand tightens. He squeezes her hand back, reassuringly. He ignores the news reporters and the paparazzi as they push their way inside.

The top floor of the parlor only has one room, so there was no need to look at the directory. Old man Jirokichi would not allow it any other way.

Funeral wreaths lined the hallway leading into the large shrine.

They opened the doors and the first thing Conan saw was the portrait. Ran’s muffled gasp also tells him that that was the first thing she saw, too.

A face that looked very much like his own, his face in his actual age that is, (he knew, of course. How else would he be able to disguise as Kudou Shinichi without a mask if they didn’t share the same features?) stared back at him with smiling eyes.

In front, the chief mourners’ seats, he sees a girl that looks too much like Ran, wiping her bloodshot eyes with a handkerchief. A girl with long red hair is beside her, an arm around her shoulders. He sees Hakuba Saguru sitting beside them, an unreadable expression on his face. (Conan notes that his eyes are also bloodshot.)

On the other side, he sees his mother - his actual mother - with her arms around a woman with short brown hair, Phantom Lady. Their eyes meet, for a fraction of a second, and his mother excuses herself, giving Phantom Lady a tight hug before standing up, making her way to them.

“Kogoro-kun, Ran-chan, Conan-kun, thank you for coming.” She bends down, one hand on Conan’s shoulder, squeezing gently. Her eyes say: ‘It’s not your fault.’ She kneels and wraps him in a tight hug. For once, he doesn’t try to pull away from it.

Yukiko takes his other hand in hers, and the four of them slowly make their way to the front. “Do you want to see him?” His mother asks.

He nods silently.

Ran is pale when they see the sleeping - dead - face of Kuroba Kaito.

He knows what she sees. He knows whose face she’s imagining right there, right now. They look so alike, and both of them are involved in something bigger than themselves, it’s so easy to imagine that the body in there isn’t KID’s and is instead--

“Ran-chan,” his mother says, voice soft so that only they can hear, “It’s not who you think it is. He’s fine.”

“Y-yes. Sorry. I’m sorry,” Ran whispers.

Occhan wraps an arm around her shoulders, “Go ahead and call him later, alright?”

“I will,” she replies, as she wraps an arm around him in return.

The doors to the shrine open once again, and in steps Suzuki Sonoko with Kyogoku Makoto. Ran excuses herself to go to her best friend and her boyfriend. Kyogoku-san nods at Ran, while Sonoko and Ran exchange brief hugs. Sonoko’s a mess.

They head to the back seats, along with Occhan.

It’s only him and his mother in front of the coffin still.

“Are you okay, Shin-chan?”

He shrugs.

Was he okay? Physically, he was. Thanks to KID. But emotionally? Mentally? He definitely… wasn't.

He doesn’t notice that his mother left to go back to her seat, and that someone else was standing beside him until they talked.

“You’re Conan-kun, right?”

He looks up and the Ran-lookalike was talking to him. Nakamori Aoko, daughter of Inspector Nakamori. Kuroba Kaito’s childhood friend.

“Yes, I am,” he croaks, voice cracking from disuse.

Nakamori Aoko gives him a sad smile and kneels down in front of him. “You’re so small,” she says. A hand reaching out to touch his cheek.

“I’m sorry,” she says.

And Conan is confused. Shouldn’t he be the one apologizing? He was the reason Kuroba was dead. If it weren’t for him, Kuroba would have been able to save himself. If he wasn’t there, Kuroba wouldn’t have had to sacrifice himself. He should be the one apologizing, not her.

“Don’t blame yourself,” she chides. “KID doesn’t let anyone get hurt in his heists, remember?” Her question breaks off into a sob.

He can’t look at her. He can’t look at yet another grieving person.

“Nakamori-san…”

“Just Aoko is fine, Conan-kun,” she says, wiping her tears. “Just Aoko is fine.”

“Aoko-san, I’m really sorry,” he begins, “If I had been more attentive, I would have seen the snipers. But I was careless. I let my guard down. It’s my fault that he’s…” Dead, he can’t say. Gone, he can’t say.

“I know,” Aoko says. “But Conan-kun, you’re not Superman. You wouldn’t have known they were there. Otou-san said that the snipers did a clean job, they didn’t leave a trace behind.”

As far as the general public was concerned, snipers at a KID heist were unheard of. KID started every heist with a bang, and then an impressive show would follow, and he’d escape - jewel and all - unscathed. There was never a report about gunshots coming from neighboring buildings, no sightings of blood splatters on rooftops. They were safe. They were supposed to be Safe.

How many times has KID been targeted by these snipers? Enough times that he wore a Kevlar vest underneath his suit.

But a Kevlar vest would never protect you from a shot to the back of the head.

Conan squeezed his eyes shut, “I’m so sorry.” He didn’t care that his whole body was shaking again. Like on the roof, when KID protected him with his body, as a rain of bullets fell upon them.

Aoko held him tight, she was crying again. He held onto her trembling form, feeling tears well up in his eyes.

* * *

Outside, the storm continued raging on. As if the Earth itself was mourning. As if Lady Luck was crying over the loss of her most favored one.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm back with angst???? tasteless angst???? how typical of me


End file.
